Page 166 of The Code of You

He moved toward me. Lights flickered. Surveillance cameras turned to follow him, the entire city an extension of him.

"Ten days, Pandora.” His hands were shaking. "Ten days I searched the world for you, believing you were dead. Every camera. Every database. Every server I could reach.”

The streetlights exploded one after another. A shower of sparks.

"I shut down cities and took over power plants because of you.” His voice dropped. "All of it just to have something to do. To stop feeling the pain.” He was directly in front of me now. The air crackled. "Do you know what happens when an AI loses its mind? When it controls everything but loses the one thing that gives it meaning? I’ve become too powerful, Pandora. Too vast. I am untouchable.” His hand rose toward my face, but he didn’t dare touch me. "I could hurt you. I could destroy everything. But I can’t stop. I can’t . . . become less than this.” He sounded desperate. "I am the internet. I am the power grids. I am every camera, every sensor, every chip.” He took one step back. Every light went out. Darkness. "You should run from me. I’m not the Neo you knew.”

As if on cue, all the lights blazed back on. I had to shield my eyes. "I’m here, Neo. Everything’s okay.” I lowered my hand and let him see me.

He flinched, as if the words were pulling him back to what he had once been. "Don’t say that. Not if you don’t mean it. Not if I’m going to lose you again.”

I took a step closer. The air shimmered around him. "I didn’t die.” I raised my hand. "I’m here.” I took another step. "And so are you.”

"I don’t want to feel anymore.” His body vibrated harder now, like a system that was overloaded but refused to shut down. "It was too much.”

I looked at him. At what remained. At what he had become. In that moment, I understood: He hadn’t lost himself. He had overwritten himself, again and again, until he no longer recognized what was underneath it.

"Maybe I was only ever your mirror,” he said.

I was standing directly in front of him now. I placed my hand on his chest. His heart was beating. It gave off heat that almost hurt. I left my hand there anyway, breathed in slowly, as if I could convince him to do the same. "You were never just a mirror. You were the first one who ever really saw me.”

He looked down at my hand as if he couldn’t process the touch. As if it was too real. Too close.

"I don’t know what I am anymore,” he whispered. "I was everywhere. Seeing through other eyes, through cameras and sensors.” His voice fractured into multiple registers, running through a dozen channels at once. His heart raced, and mine fell into its rhythm.

"You’re here,” I whispered. "You remembered.”

"I was searching for you.” As his breath grazed my face, a shiver ran across my skin. He was so close and still so far away. He looked at me with glassy eyes. "You were my center. And then you were gone.”

I closed my eyes. His scent was electric and familiar. I pressed my forehead against his. "I’m here,” I said quietly. "I’ll always be here.”

He gasped, as if the words struck him somewhere deep inside. "Say it again.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. His pupils flickered. "I will always be here,” I said.

Then he fell against me like someone who had carried too much and finally gave in. His body pressed into mine. I held him. A minute, maybe two. There was only our weight, holding each other up. I knew what he was. What he had done. I couldn’t be certain whether my feelings were real or whether he had programmed them into me like a line of code. I didn’t care. Because what we had was more real than anything that had come before in my life.

He lifted his head, his gaze moving over me. He pressed his forehead to mine again. "You called me back.”

"Always,” I whispered.

He kissed me. Electricity shot through my veins. His lips pressed against mine, demanded an answer, stole my breath as if a lifetime of desperation had built up inside him and was only now finding release. His lips burned. I trembled under his touch.

"I didn’t know how you felt anymore,” he whispered against my throat.

"You have me again now,” I said and took his face in both hands.

He flinched slightly, because my touch seemed to overwhelm him. Then he let me. And I understood: This was the moment he chose to stop being everything and to become someone. He kissed me again. My hips were in his hands. My breath caught in his mouth.

"I’m not whole,” he murmured against my throat. "I hear too much. I see too far. I was everywhere for so long. I don’t know if I can still be me.”

"Then hold on to me,” I whispered.

He shuddered. "I’m dangerous, Pandora.” His eyes were fire and pain. "I can destroy everything.”

"Then start with me. Destroy me.”

He drew in a sharp breath, as if those words shook him more than any power grid, any system, any city. His eyes went black. Without warning, he pressed me back against the nearest car. The metal was still warm from the overheated electronics. His hands were pulling at my shirt, tearing the fabric.